


Thunderstorms

by foolsonparade



Category: Arctic Monkeys, Last Shadow Puppets
Genre: Domestic, Established Relationship, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Romance, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-14
Updated: 2015-04-14
Packaged: 2018-03-22 23:55:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3747901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foolsonparade/pseuds/foolsonparade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alex is home alone with the flu and finds himself frightened by a raging thunderstorm. Cue longing for the company of a certain brunette.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Thunderstorms

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Never happened (as far as I know). I don't own Miles or Alex; I just occasionally borrow them for my twisted enjoyment.  
> I posted this to my tumblr last week, but due to the positive reception it got I've decided to put it up here as well. As is often the case, this is just some shameless Alex torture with Miles around to play nurse. I'm in too deep to be sorry.  
> Enjoy!

Alex has suffered from allergies since long before he even knew Miles, and so it was astoundingly easy to convince his fretting boyfriend that such is the cause of his incessant sneezing and the persistent pressure in his sinuses. Of course, he was forced to evict the fact that his throat has been aching with every word he dares to speak from his appeal to Miles, but by failing to mention this (along with the truth of his mounting fever) he managed to convince Miles to go enjoy a night out with his friends.

Given that their friends are more or less the same group of people, Alex had to make an excuse to miss out on the social event himself, but he’d easily fibbed that he needed some alone time. Miles understood. He always did. After all, Alex is not the most social of creatures—Miles’ polar opposite in that respect—and is known to grow quickly exhausted of social intercourse. Miles would likely have been more surprised to hear he wanted to join in on the “fun” than he was when Alex declined his offer to tag along, and so it really is a decent enough excuse. Decent only in that Miles bought it, though, because Alex is now finding himself very lonely in the absence of his boyfriend.

 Something about being ill and miserable makes Alex very needy, and he wishes he’d allowed himself to admit the truth to Miles: that he feels very unwell and would really prefer not to be left alone. It’s too late for that, though, because at this point Miles is undoubtedly having a blast at some bar, serving as the life of the party per the norm. Meanwhile, Alex is lying dejected in his and Miles’ bed, listening to the sound of rain pattering against the window.

A crack of thunder slices through the night and Alex jumps, startled and trembling.

He seizes the duvet wrapped around his shoulders with both hands and tightens its embrace around his shivering form, eyes burning and nose running. His thoughts stray to Miles, and a hollow feeling takes up residence in his chest. It feels like he’s got no right to miss someone he’s seen within the past five hours, but still he wishes that Miles was curled up beside him, warming his shivering form and stroking his hair until one of them would fall into a contented sleep.

Sleep. The concept is so appealing to his heavy eyelids and pounding head, along with every aching inch of his body, but each crack of thunder and flash of lightning jerks him out of the hazy land between sleep and wakefulness and he knows this isn’t liable to change in Miles’ absence.

Whether it’s the fever or the sickness-induced loneliness that’s making him so jumpy is unclear, but whatever the cause Alex is too miserable to entertain a thought outside of his lover’s bright grin and gentle touch dispelling the fear. He wants so badly for Miles to make the pain go away, to ease the aching of his body and the hot-and-cold feeling indicative of rising temperature. His throat is sore and scratchy, his head all but caving in beneath the pressure in his sinuses, and he itches to feel Miles’ presence beside him, radiating warmth and safety and comfort.

Alex wishes desperately that he’d allowed his dignity to split and provide liberation for the truth, but it’s too late for that. He’s already alone; cold, sick, and aberrantly frightened of the raging storm.

Yet again he finds himself sinking into sleep beneath the weight of his exhaustion, and yet again he’s startled fully awake by the deep, rumbling sound cutting through the quiet like a machete. Behind the blinds, lightning strikes and sets the room aglow with a broken, spectral light for all of a few seconds before the room is tossed into darkness again and no sound is audible apart from the missile-like drops of rain assaulting the window and the heavy, shaking breaths that enter and exit Alex’s aching lungs with some reluctance.   

Before his better judgment has time to catch up with him, Alex lets out a sound akin to a whimper and buries further beneath the covers, sniffling wretchedly and struggling to find a position that tends to the aching in his shoulders and back. All the while, he grows more and more stifled by the covers laid heavily on his feverish skin, and he squirms and curses the unfitting gooseflesh coaxing his arm hairs to an upright stance.

Eventually, he’s forced to give up any semblance of hope that he might sleep comfortably (or at all), and he fixes his eyes on an indeterminate point on the ceiling and relies on the cursed thunder and lightning to inform him intermittently of the state of the weather.

Amid the distinctive sounds of a stormy April night, Alex’s ears pick up on the cautious creaking of a door, and he feels his heart shudder and stop in his chest when the ghostly lightning cuts through the cracks in the blinds and illuminates a figure standing in the bedroom doorway. A startled yelp tears through him despite his sore throat’s objections, and Alex nearly whimpers in pain.

“Shh, it’s alright, love,” murmurs a certain beloved scouser, voice banishing the fear from Alex’s constricted lungs. “’s only me.”

“Miles,” Alex gasps, feeling relieved tears bite at his already watery eyes. He swallows as much of his emotion as he can get down in a single gulp and his throat protests heatedly.

Going off of the muted sounds of his feet on the carpet Alex can deduce that Miles has already discarded his shoes, and the sound of drawers opening and shutting followed by the ruffling of fabric suggests that he’s changing into his pajamas. Alex finds solace in the familiar sounds heightened by his limited sight, and a moment later feels the mattress dip beneath Miles’ added weight.

Miles hums. “Missed ya tonight, baby.” He and Alex are inches from touching and Alex longs to close the distance. “The lads missed you, too.”

Alex isn’t sure how to respond, and so he allows himself to stay quiet and expects for Miles to fill the silence quickly enough. When he doesn’t speak again right away, though, Alex becomes hyperaware of himself; of the tremors jostling his slight frame, probably sending vibrations through the mattress and alerting Miles prematurely to his discomfort. He can practically hear the scouser’s brow furrowing as he takes notice of his boyfriend’s quaking and the heat he’s undoubtedly giving off, and he feels like he’s suffocating, air musty with fever sweat and the distinct smell of illness.

“Jesus, Al,” he says, voice half-lost to a crack of thunder and the intensifying of rainfall. Alex feels Miles shift closer and he habitually rolls over to face him, their foreheads meeting just where their separate pillows do. “You’ve got a temperature.”

“Yeah,” Alex affirms, voice hoarse.

A laugh splits the tension and it’s so beautifully out of place that Alex can’t help but smile. “Take it you’re not just havin’ an allergy flare-up, then?”

Alex’s lips are tugged by both a smile and a grimace, but in the end the grimace wins out. He nestles his head between Miles’ chest and the mattress and ignores the stuffy feeling settling heavy on his skin. “Tis the season,” he croaks, “but no.”

Miles’ hand snakes its way through Alex’s moptop and then comes to rest at the nape of his neck. “Flu, then?” he asks, moving his cool palm to rest against Alex’s heated cheek as if sensing that this is exactly what he needs. It’s hard for Alex to contain a sigh of pleasure at the cool contact, but he manages.

“Prob’ly.”

Miles remains silent, thinking, and then shifts just enough to elicit a quiet complaint from Alex.

“Should get some medicine in ya so you can sleep,” Miles explains, fingers playing with Alex’s hair. He doesn’t move again, probably allowing Alex time to form a response, and instead contents himself with stroking the older man’s head.

“Can sleep fine,” Alex says, eyelids reluctant to stay open. Thunder rolls exceptionally loudly, but this time the sound doesn’t bother him in the slightest. He feels more than safe in Miles’ arms. “I’ll take some tomorrow.”

At this, Miles relaxes entirely and doesn’t even hint at discomfort when Alex presses his hot forehead against his neck, hair probably tickling his chin.

From behind his eyelids, Alex catches the slightest flicker of lightning illuminating the room, and a moment later sleep tries to pull him under. He lets go of consciousness with the smell of Miles filling his nostrils and the sound of rumbling thunder lulling him to sleep, along with the steady breaths of the love of his life.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading! As always, comments are much appreciated and you can message me on my tumblr: most-indignant.tumblr.com  
> Have a great day! xx


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